


coffin talk

by Hannahmayski



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (When sam runs away), Abusive John Winchester, BAMF Sam Winchester, Bad Parent John Winchester, But also about seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, But hoping that one day it will get better, Episode: s05e16 Dark Side of the Moon, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It’s about the hopelessness of a situation, OFC is an old lady who is Concerned abt the way John treats sam, Pre-Series, Pre-Series Sam Winchester, The calming act of doing laundry with strangers, knowing that it’s hard and its going to get harder, pre-flagstaff, referenced in:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27722720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannahmayski/pseuds/Hannahmayski
Summary: When Sam is 16, he gets suspended from three schools consecutively.
Relationships: John Winchester & Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	coffin talk

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey hey

When Sam is 16, he gets suspended from three schools consecutively.

He’s not sure what the fuck is wrong with him, only that Brett Wilson shoving him into a locker for the 4th time in a week because he sees Sam as his new little chew toy makes Sam see red, and his fist has connected with Brett’s jaw before he’s even aware of what he’s doing.

Brett stumbles, and Sam catches his collar before he can fall and punches him again, hard, and his nose crunches under Sam’s fist. Brett falls like a felled tree, splayed out on the tiled floor like some fucking star fish or whatever. Sam’s fist aches but it doesn’t bother him, and his chest heaves from the adrenaline. He opens his fist, clenches it and turns his attention to his cronies. Sam wants to punch the shit out of something, he wants them to come at him, to give Sam a reason to slam Finlay’s head into the locker just hard enough to make him see stars and hopefully scare the shit out of him, to kick Trevor in the fucking stomach. Sam’s disappointed when they both run off.

He gets suspended for three weeks. Excessive violence, the principal cited. He’s lucky that the Wilson’s don’t want to press charges - as if Sam isn’t the one he’s been harassing since they got here.

John’s pissed when he hears about it. He doesn’t ask Sam why he decided to make the school bullies eat their words for the third time as they sit in the car, and he doesn’t mention Sam’s previous suspension from the last school he was at a few states over.

Sam isn’t sure what’s wrong with him. But he’s angry, pissed off all the time and Brett got on the receiving end of that after one too many times thinking he can shove around whoever he wants, as if Sam is just going to lie down and take it just because Brett and his cronies have got more muscle than he has.

Dean’s despondent at best these days and Sam doesn’t bother saying anything to him as John follows him through the door of the motel. It’s an end room out of the way, but the older couple next door keep shooting Sam pitying looks when they spot him, and Sam has no idea what to do about it.

“This is the third fucking school, Sam,” John’s saying from the kitchenette, breaking the tension in the room like a sledgehammer to glass, but Sam knows for a fact there’s no food there. Knows John and Dean blew the last $50 in cash they had on booze the other night in a post-hunt celebration. The smell of cheap beer still lingers on John’s jacket. Dean doesn’t say anything from where he’s sitting, cleaning the guns. He hasn’t said anything for a while. Sam pretends he’s not worried about it.

Sam doesn’t bother replying, he just wedges himself into the bathroom that isn’t built for someone who’s 6’2 and 80% limbs, locking the door and trying to convince himself that screaming is only going to get him in trouble. The old couple next door are worried enough.

Maybe John thinks that Sam is beyond help, because for once he doesn’t say anything, just lets Sam hide away in the bathroom, there’s no screaming or John banging on the door telling Sam to take it like a fucking man.

He slides down the door until he’s on the ground, back pressed against the old wood and the rusted yellow tiles glare back up at him. He still has Wilson’s blood on his knuckles from breaking his nose.

He’s not sure why he’s so angry, why he feels like he’s been choked out every day, why he feels like the walls are closing in around him.

Maybe there really is something wrong with him. Dean doesn’t have any problem with the way they live, so why is Sam falling apart at the seams?

Dad says he just needs to get over himself, pull his head out of his ass and start acting like a hunter and then he’ll be fine. The sooner he quits school the better, the more he can focus on the hunt rather than whatever useless bullshit they teach him at school, the better.

(Sam’s english teacher says that Sam could be a writer one day, that she likes the way he writes and that the horror story he wrote for an assignment genuinely scared her; Sam’s math teacher says his marks are always above and beyond what’s expected, that he could get into just about any college if he worked for it. He says that Sam can do anything, that he can decide. John says it’s not his choice to make.)

The bathroom window is cracked open, and Sam thinks he could squeeze through it. He just needs some air, needs to get away from John, from his disdain. Sam is pretty sure there’s something wrong with him, but still, the way John looks at him sometimes - it’s too much.

He clicks open the bathroom door - they only have one bathroom, and Sam doesn’t need dad screaming down his neck for being a selfish prick for hogging the bathroom to himself - and plants one foot on the closed toilet lid and then steps on the side of the basin, raising himself up to the window. He’s lucky he’s as all lean muscle (skin and fucking bone, Sam; Dean would say if he was feeling better) because his shoulders catch the sides of the window, threatening to tear his jacket and this is the only one he has left that actually fits him.

He crawls out like a spider, lands softly on the cement, and freezes, crouched and eyes saucer-wide. The woman from next door is staring at him, in between pegging out some washing on the makeshift clothes line out the back of their motel.

She looks at him, then up at the open window, then back to Sam, and this doesn’t paint a good picture. Why else is Sam running away if the screaming matches between him and John weren’t indicator enough that something was going on.

Sam straightens up, he doesn’t have to stretch far to reach the window, just extends one arm and closes it. John’s going to kick his ass at some point anyway, but he doesn’t want this old lady to get caught up in it.

She turns back to her washing, carefully pegging a shirt to the line. “Would you like to help me, honey?” She asks. She’s eyeing him carefully, but it’s not the same cautious fear of John, or the desperate eyes of Dean, begging him to start behaving like a hunter, to act like he wants to be here. She looks at him like his English teacher does. Concerned.

He nods, and moves over to her. She barely reaches his shoulder, tiny and slight, but her old muscles are evident from what was probably a life of manual labour. She hands him a shirt, and he reaches down to pick up two pegs.

“My name is Ally,” she says. She glances at him, nodding as he pegs up the shirt in a way that’s thankfully Ally-approved. She has an old shirt in her hands, it’s well-worn like the shirt Sam’s wearing at the moment, minus the blood splattering from Brett’s nose.

“Sam,” he replies.

She doesn’t ask if he’s okay, if he’s safe. Ally’s smart enough to know the answer and Sam’s got a plan forming anyway. It’s not like she’d be able to help him; not really. So what if she helps him get out, so Sam can end up in some group home until he turns 18? He’s heard enough about that to know that’s not an option. And he’s not sure what John would do if it didn’t work, if Sam told someone, asked them for help and it fell through.

None of them are exactly ever sitting on the right side of the law at any given time and being a hunter is kind of like holding hands with being on the run - and he knows John would be pissed.

If Sam wants out that’s on him.

He’s hanging up a pair of pants when Ally speaks again. “Does he need time to cool off?” And yeah, Ally and her partner must have heard every fight between him John these last few weeks.

“Yeah,” he says. “You don’t need to worry though, I’ve uh,” he looks back at the building where his brother and father sit, like they’ll be able to hear him all the way out here. “I’m working on a plan, so you don’t need to worry.”

Ally sighs, all weary and old and tired, and for a moment Sam thinks he’s said the wrong thing - maybe he’d read her wrong, that reassuring her was wrong - but she just meets his eyes. Sad and worried, like she’s seen this all before.

“Do you know when you’ll leave?” she asks him.

“Not yet.” he spares another glance back at the room, like John’s going to materialise behind him.

Her hand comes up to pat his back, and he flinches - hard - but she doesn’t remove it, keeps it there, featherlight.

“Be careful, okay,” He has to crane his neck to look down at her, but her eyes look right through him, she knows exactly what this means for him.

“I will,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> I just think that; Dean falling more into line leads to Sam pulling hard in the other, yknow. Sam not understanding why he feels this way (so upset, so angry), but knowing that he doesn’t get the out, it’s going to drive him insane. 
> 
> Also... how bad must it have been for Sam - a smart kid - to run away knowing that living on the streets / on his own would be extremely dangerous.


End file.
